F r a y e d
by DamnLazyWriter
Summary: Inky blue eyes, flat as they were dark. He was every bit of 'Li' as he was the fiend in the mask and black trench coat. Every bit as normal as he was an anomaly. *Discontinued*
1. I

**Frayed**

**A/N: **I love DTB and I find Hei fascinating beyond all reasoning! This is my first _Darker Than BLACK_ story attempt. I intend for this to be no more than five chapters, as I've never really been 'novel-esque'. Rated **T** for now, but may be changed to **M** in the future. Please read and review. :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Darker Than BLACK. _

**I**

**[][][]**

_"Wickedness is a myth invented _  
><em>by good people to account for the <em>  
><em>curious attractiveness of others."<em>

-Oscar Wilde

**[][][]**

Hei gazed into the abysmal bronze depths of his umpteenth shot of liquor. He barely registered the mugginess. The lackadaisical drizzle of rain against his window. Above him, a single dim light bulb swung from a rope of frayed wires. A fly landed on his knuckles, measuring the small hairs there with it's fickle limbs.

His home was a practical little square amongst an innocuous district in Tokyo. Perfect location. Mostly only older couples were tucked here, attending to their lives in the quiet way that was expected of them. He reveled the persistent lack of excitement at best and did not mind the occasional greet from his neighbors.

The contractor's thoughts shuddered; numbed. Without thinking, Hei drew the drink to his lips and guzzled mechanically. It was a strange, yet familiar sensation, of warmth, adrenaline, and poison all the same. And once he could see clear to the bottom, Hei grasped the near empty bottle to the right of his elbow and drained the last of it's contents into his glass.

He hadn't heard her approaching at first…or rather, he hadn't really cared to know. Rain muffled high heels cutting over the concrete patio just outside his door. The careful click of a well attended gun locking into place. His eyes easily registered the set of double-bladed knives thrown across his coffee table.

He heard no one else, just her, and the fabric of her perfectly pressed blue suit scratching against the wall adjacent to his front door. Of course. She'd be foolish enough to come alone. Irritating that she would make such a spectacle of her curiosity of him. Pitiable what she was willing to risk for it.

Hei took a final swig and leveled his eyes with the doorframe.

**[][][]**

It was strictly against protocol.

…_turn left, fifteen yards. _

The cool voice of her compact GPS funneled over the faint hum of rain and engine. Misaki was off duty. No…Misaki was on vacation, and instead of exhausting her time via tropical beaches and a much needed massage, she was satiating her workaholic compulsions and tracking a dangerous contractor.

She'd spent the last few days confined to her apartment, crosschecking private sources and reevaluating references. Misaki had never been so sure. BK201 (_Li Shengshun_…) was currently in Tokyo and was biding his time in a quiet suburban area. He'd disappeared from the radar for two years. In just two years, both his sightings and reported activity had plummeted severely. It was rumored that he was somewhere in Eurasia, but it wasn't long before she'd buried the case. Still, it wasn't without more than a little self-restraint.

In that time Misaki had taken to smaller local cases-burglaries, grand theft auto, petty theft-as a way to pacify the stresses that came with the dark and political underworld of contractors. She was not sure which had jarred her back into mobility the hardest: the reemergence of the Black Reaper, or her compressed sense of justice. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

_Now approaching destination._

Kirihara's thoughts emaciated with the very sudden proclamation. Through the filtered view of rain and windshield wipers, she caught a glimpse of a very modest neighborhood. Trees; kempt, sparsely decorated lawns; tidy looking drives tapering off at wooden doors. A cool, fragment of shock rippled through her. She could not place it's origin.

'_Li Shengshun…BK201...'_

His memory was etched painfully clear and constant. After nearly two years of searching, two years of disregarding her own mental welfare, the Black Reaper was within walking distance. It was a curiously traumatic thought…as incomprehensible as it was satiable.

She remembered him with stunning clarity.

That white buttoned down shirt, peeled slightly at the chest. Those aged, frayed jeans, bleached and paled from one wash too many. A fine curtain of liquid black hair. Thin, expressionless lips. Inky blue eyes, flat as they were dark. He was every bit of 'Li' as he was the fiend in the mask and black trench coat. Every bit as normal as he was an anomaly.

Misaki turned the car off two blocks away from his drive. Up ahead, she could see no vehicles. No lights. Hardly any sign of life, except the maintenance of the small lawn. The curtains were tightly drawn and the surrounding area seemed desolate.

It was _all _against protocol. Misaki could lose her job, let alone her life-but she had driven too far to turn back now. She'd invested too much heart-too much of herself into this. Exiting her car, Misaki slipped quietly into the rain and made haste up the street. Senses were blaring, heart racing in her chest, gun heavy at her hip. She cut through trees and yards before darting out in front of his door, suit rain-soaked.

The rain was menacing now, and she was aware of the risk…

Gun at her chest, she pressed her back against the wall and listened for any sounds of movement inside the house. Nothing.

'_Move, Kirihara!'_

It was so easy, was it not? Kick down the door, lift the gun, take aim, and declare him under arrest. But her fingers felt like stone. She palmed the firearm and miserably noted that it felt slippery in her tentative grasp. One bullet, and she could down Li Shengshun, couldn't she?

'_Damn it…' _For god sakes, she was Misaki Kirihara! She'd busted far too much ass to jeopardize her sense of justice via cognitive dissonance. He was BK201; The Black Reaper; a contractor. How much pep talk was it going to take for her to get that through her head. _There was no Li-kun._

'_Now…'_

Forbidding second thought, Misaki spun forward, thrust her gun front center, and prepared to kick the door in…

…but it opened before she could even take an inventive stance.

Misaki's heart exploded in her chest as she stared up into the eyes of the man who'd been eluding her for all of this time.

"…always so put together, aren't you?"


	2. II

**A/N: **This won't be a very happy, fluffy sort of story. At least not in the beginning, anyway. Also, this story, though set in the second season, has kind of an 'AU' twist. I'm not really going by the book so to speak.

**II**

**[][][]**

_I'm not sober all the time  
>And you bring me down, at least you try<br>Until we see this eye to eye  
>I don't want you. <em>

-Three Days Grace, Wake Up

**[][][]**

Such a frivolous woman.

Seamless, tight, dominating. The type of woman who, subjected to the hardships of a man's world, went through harrowing measures just to prove that she was more than just a pair of legs underneath a skirt. The type of woman who hid her insecurities beneath a shell of firmly pressed suits, square-rimmed glasses, and tidy hairbobs.

Kirihara was about as opaque as a shard of glass. She fooled herself with false intentions-lured herself into believing that her sole reason for tracking him down was to take him into custody. No…she fought the thing that really resonated with her, and that thing was baseless fascination.

Such blind naivety.

"…always so put together, aren't you?" He asserted, his flat monotone suggesting a hint of irritation. "You didn't come here to arrest me. Don't waste my time."

"You misjudge me. Put your hands above your head! Now!" The woman ground out. Her movements were nervous; mechanical. "I _won't _ask again." She squared herself as if at any moment he would close the space between them and pounce. Had she not considered their proximity? It was obvious that from this angle he could disarm her, pin her, and possibly cause serious injury. He could even kill her if his mood so dictated. Snap her neck with only the less-than-sober thought of where he could procure his next drink.

His eyes narrowed severely. "You came here alone."

A lone little lamb against the big bad wolf. Had she even marginally taken her life into consideration, she would have brought some form of back up. It was rare that he did not see her tottering around with one clumsy cop or the other. Hei was considered to be an excruciatingly dangerous contractor, and most rational men would approach him with a squad of ten. Just what was she thinking, he wondered?

Even still, she appeared to be shocked by the confirmation. Yes, she had arrived alone, with only the protection of instincts, bullet proof vest, and a police issued firearm. Not nearly enough to stop him from striking her dead. And he'd thought that she was smarter than that…

He watched as her stance faltered minutely. "You-"

"Ask yourself, Kirihara. Why are you here?"

**[][][]**

_Why are you here…?_

The question seemed to bring forth an ominous resonation. Misaki forced herself to brush it off.

"I assure you, I know why I'm here. Please note that I'll be the one asking questions from now on."

She'd barely recognized him through the foggy scruff in which he'd shrouded himself. His jaw was littered with a light smattering of unattended facial hair. Dark bags groped at his eye lids, adding emphasis to his haggardly appearance. His hair was now slung low over his eyes and gathered at the base of his neck in haphazard ponytail. A startling contrast to the man she'd seen two years ago.

Most of all, however, she noted the scent of alcohol-so pungent that it would only take a small inhalation to become inebriated from the fumes. Misaki cringed backwards. The contractor seemed utterly unmoved at this gesture and simply remained motionless.

So this was the Black Reaper now? A drunk? She eyeballed him distastefully before rolling over into her cop speech, "So this is what you've become? Tell you what-you do exactly as I say and I'll make this easier for you…BK201."

"Put the gun down, Kirihara."

Misaki stared balefully into his blank eyes. Didn't he get it? She was in charge, not him. She had the upper hand, which also happened to be a _gun_, in this game. If he saw this as a power struggle he was clearly delusional. Or drunk beyond comprehension. She was aware that he'd lost access to his powers quite some time ago…without them, he was just an ordinary killer. It was the _only _plausible reason that she'd chosen to take the risk of coming alone…

"Hands above your head!" She was practically screaming over the maelstrom now. "Now!"

**[][][]**

He'd never been a stable man so much as he was a rational man. Upon her face marinated a cocktail of emotion; fear, intrigue, disgust, and something he couldn't quite distinguish. Disappointment, perhaps. In his near drunken stupor, he found her reactions almost cinematic.

Hei was typically not in the mood for repeating himself. He'd told the woman to put the gun down, and she insisted on playing the role of a super cop who was impervious to looming danger. There was nothing admirable about foolishness.

Therefore, admittedly, he would take great satisfaction in punishing her for her reluctance to listen to him.

In an atomic second a splintering pain ignited through her entire right arm. The reaper had darted forward, like a jagged blur, and pried the gun from her slippery fingers with the force of steel pliers. She'd barely time to cry out. Glasses tumbled from her face and shattered when he crushed them with a drunken misstep.

"I told you to put the gun down," He hissed hotly into her ear, wrenching her arms behind her back. His lips reflexively grazed her skin as he spoke again, "you should have listened to me."

Grasped her ponytail. Pulled back with a violent tug so that she was forced to look up at him. BK201 pressed the cold metal of the pistol against the throbbing, much alive vein in her neck. The woman could barely struggle. He had her locked against his chest; suspended in a crushing hold of pain and immobility.

"Why are you here?" He glared coolly into her large, obnoxiously perceptive eyes. She merely clenched her teeth, moved against him, struggling to repel her obvious discomfort. Her face reddened from the exertion.

No matter. He preferred her silent…and unconscious, as well.

"You really shouldn't have come alone, Kirihara-_san_."

And her world went darker than black.

**[][][]**

**A/N: **Cheesy pun, and horrible cut off, but I had to do it. I apologize! :)


	3. III

**A/N: **I'd like to dedicate this chapter to **outwriter18**. Thanks for bringing a little sunshine my way. :) Also, thanks to everyone who hasn't forgotten about this story over the months. Please review!

**III**

**[][][]**

The entire bust had gone incomprehensibly wrong.

...it took her a moment to register that the dull, arrhythmic panging against her skull was indeed the beginnings of a lightly concussive headache; that the lights blaring down on her dilapidated form were in fact, not the ones from her office; and that the dark silhouette shuffling briskly about her immobile person did not belong to a fellow officer. Her limbs felt as if they weighed one thousand pounds respectively, and as she struggled to peel open her resilient eyelids, she prayed for a very convenient surge of amnesia.

Through her somewhat deluded stupor, Kirihara recognized a few conclusive factors: one, her lack of responsive motor skills and her inability to move furthur than an inch indicated that she had been drugged and bound. It was remarkable, to say the least, that she was able to string together a cohesive thought, let alone stay calm. Two, all of her possessions had been knicked. Anything that had been of detrimental importance had been removed from her person; her firearm, cellphone, identification badge, wallet; all of it was gone and she could no longer feel their weight in her pockets.

This was probably the lowest point of her career. Her sorry attempt to arrest BK-201 was reprehensible only in a way that was going to get her fired. What's more, she was more worried about her career trek than the potential murderer that was lingering over her. Dear god...it was miraculous what a few milligrams of sedative could do for her...she would only get fired if she made it out of this tizzy alive, and she couldn't quite comprehend which would be worse.

...but no, it was much worse than that, wasn't it? Because if Kirihara was going to be honest with herself-if she was truly going to explore why she'd breeched protocol, why she'd come alone, why she'd evaded her own police sense just come up with a reason to go through with it all...if she truly trudged through the bullshit and swept aside all else, she would realize that she had not come here for recognition from her department. She had not even come here to reclaim her sense of justice. No, the real reason why Misaki Kirihara had so recklessly risked her neck had nothing to do with _any _of this...but it sure made one hell of an excuse to fall back on.

She felt utterly pathetic. Never in her entire life had she been so impulsive. And now she was probably going to pay for it with her life. Li would not kill her...but BK-201 would, because his sole deliberating system relied on clean-cut logic. Based on a contractor's robotic thinking, it was only logical to kill her and dispose of her properly. It would make irrefutable sense not to keep her around.

And yet, she was not dead. Just drugged, bound, and tossed on someone's couch like a disregarded sack of potatoes. So much for having the upper hand. BK-201 had apprehended her as if it was a matter of child's play.

_"Sit up."_

"I can't, you sick bastard..." she slurred automatically, completely aware of how pathetic she sounded in her attempt to be aggressive. She wasn't sure where the voice had come from. She wasn't even sure it the voice was palpable; for all she knew, she could have been hallucinating and throwing insults at someone that didn't even exist. All of that was tossed out of the window, however, when she felt two rough hands clutch both her shoulders and force her into a rather unnatural upright position.

Fingers, long deft fingers, began to rapidly pluck apart the large buttons on her blue suit jacket.

"Just what the hell are you doing?"

Clearly unphased by her sudden outburst, BK-201 grasped eitherside of the loosened garb and forcefully tugged it down to her elbows. He then began to work on her pale blue dress shirt, fiddling with each tiny button until it was sufficiently loose against her skin. Kirihara felt a heated surge of panic and...he _wouldn't _do this to her-there was just no way in hell he would do this to her. Maybe she deserved to die, but there was no way that she deserved this!

_"Li!"_

It was enough for him to pause and bring his flat gaze to her panicked, disillusioned one.

[][][]

She was desperate. Desperate for him to stop.

_That name..._

She had called him Li. She was a smart woman, wasn't she? Surely she realized that Li Shengshun had only existed out of his convenience and his convenience alone. But deep down, the woman did not want to believe that a man she had so desperately become fond of was actually a violent, heartless killer. She wanted to believe there was more to him than that. And in an attempt to confirm these deep rooted desires, she'd found herself tracing him to his doorstep. Did she find what she was looking for? Did she particularly like what she saw?

It was a fool's endeavor. He didn't very well give a shit, either way, and was only disconcerted that his attempts to thwart her had only brought her closer to him. Sad how she believed that she could get through to him by throwing out the name of his alias. Or maybe it was an impulse; a desperate one time reveal of emotion in an attempt to keep him from what she thought was violating her.

He tore his eyes away from hers, folded apart the flaps of her shirt, and inspected for wires as he had been doing just seconds ago. Nothing was attached to the line of her bra strap-which was, to his small disconcertion, as black and lacey as both cups-and he quickly placed her clothes on her body just as they had been before.

So his speculations had been confirmed. She'd come alone, without any wires beneath her clothes, and her cellular device had not been rigged to recieve any foreign signals. There was no plausible secondary mission behind this. This was all personal endeavor.

"You have a choice," He started quietly. "I can kill you...or, I can make it so you have no memory that I've ever existed."

The woman scoffed rather condescendingly. "Are you kidding me? Are you so far up your own ass-"

"Shut up, look at me." Hei grasped her chin none too gently. His jet black eyes cut into her like pitted beams, "This little game between has gone on for far too long. You're in my way. Make your choice."


	4. IV

**A/N:** Hi everyone. Thank you for the reviews and adding my story to your fav/alerts! I apologize for the embarrassing length, but I figured something was better than nothing at all.

***EDIT:** A few of you have been asking why Hei is so mean. There are two answers to that question. One: simply because I want him to be, and two: alcoholics are not renowned for their generosity. But if it will make you feel better, he will become the Hei we know and love. Eventually.

**IV**

**[][][]**

"This little game between us has gone on for far too long. You're in my way. Make your choice."

_Make your choice._

"You have to _got _be kidding me," Kirihara forced out calmly. The grip on her chin was reminiscent of pincers, and it was taking nearly every ounce of her dignity not to let on to her discomfort. "You've got some nerve!"

The Reaper hardly solicited a blinked. "I've given you an ultimatum. Make your choice. I'm not going to ask you again."

"Let me make something very clear to you, BK201," The woman snarled with cool contempt. "I've studied your profile like the back of my goddamned hand. If you're going to make threats, I ask that you make them valid. And if they're valid, have the courtesy to elaborate. Even our resource department doesn't have access to technology of that sort of caliber-the only way you're going to 'erase' my memory is to knock me over the head really, _really_ hard...and if you're going to do that, you may as well kill me.

"Furthermore-" Kirihara paused. The corner of his lip had twitched, hadn't it? Was this man actually...smiling? No. It was her imagination. His face was as blank as it had ever been. "_Furthermore_, your abilities are limited to the production of electricity. And yes, I am very well aware that you do _not_ have access to said abilities at the moment. So you can shove it up your ass, and stop playing games."

A soft sigh escaped his thin, pale lips. He briefly entertained the sudden appeal of knocking her over the head.

"You may as well just kill me anyway." The woman dared to continue, "Erasing my memory would mean the end of my career."

"Your career was already over when I dragged you through this door," The Reaper grunted, suddenly thrusting her back and reaching for a half-empty beer bottle. She exhaled sharply as her head hit the back of the couch. He took a long, uncouth swig, and dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. "Your career ended years ago. You're pointless."

He suddenly leaned in close, distance so scarce that his lips touched the tip of her nose. The smell of alcohol was overbearing. "_Pointless,_ _stupid_, woman. Wasting your time."


	5. V

**A/N: **I would like to apologize for the atrocious grammar and spelling of the last chapter. That is _very _unlike me. I have no excuse for it, and I am working on cleaning it up. This chapter is longer and will push the story forward somewhat. I hope you enjoy. Thanks for the reviews guys! I didn't expect them, and it's very good to hear from you. ^_^

**V**

**[][][]**

"You are a lousy _drunk_," The acridity of her slightly slurred tone was near palpable, "a murderer, and a _liar_."

His voice, however, barely trumped that of a whisper, "And you like it…" But in a bizarre twist of behavior, the Reaper's expression leapt an octave. The woman felt herself cringe. "…don't you, Ms. Misaki? I can see why. Contractors can be very fascinating sometimes…that's why people consider them to be so dangerous. I heard they were pretty good actors…"

_Li _then sheepishly scratched the back of his head. It so painfully reminiscent of the college student she once thought she'd known that for a moment she felt relieved. "I'm sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Are you alright? You look so pale, Ms. Misaki. Ms. Misaki?"

"That's enough of the games!" The woman snarled. Kirihara had clearly allowed herself to be shaken by this blatant display of mockery…and then there was the hurt; that sudden surge of hurt and dread and utter humiliation. _No_. No longer was she going to be made a fool out of. She wasn't going to stoop to his savagery. "Turn yourself in to the Tokyo Police Department now and I can assure you that your punishment will not be as severe. You'll be doing all of us, _including _yourself, a big favor."

BK201 simply swaggered to an unbalanced stand, features ebbing to traditional flat. It was quite obvious that he had no interest in entertaining her stale rhetoric. "We're leaving in an hour."

"You're drunk." Kirihara pointed out the obvious. "Just where in the world do you plan on taking me in your current state? I doubt very seriously you'll get further than the nearest roadside ditch."

And without bothering to acknowledge the overwhelming validity of her point, The Black Reaper staggered into the next room. She cringed as she heard him bump into something, ('_Shit!_') , and simply succumbed to bowing her head.

The effects of the drug weren't nearly as potent as they had been moments before…he'd obviously given her a very low dosage. However the case, there was still just enough in her blood stream to block out that very heavy pang in her chest.

She'd rather be dead than to acknowledge it.

ooo

He was true to his word. An hour summed up his preparations and he returned to her: clean shaven, fully dressed, and fully armed. Whatever he owned that was of utter importance was locked into a discreet metal box. That he was never going to return to this house was not to be questioned.

He was used to the inconvenience. The constant change. He never expected to stay in a place for longer than a few months-someone was always cognizant enough to pick up on his trail. He would be lying to himself if he said he had not been expecting to cross her eventually…

However the case, that would all be taken care of. Killing her was not the best course of action. Misaki Kirihara was a valuable asset to her organization, and the police department, as well as it's affiliates, would be on his ass like bloodhounds to a raw steak. That's why he was going to keep her alive. That was, he permitted himself to believe, the only reason why he was going give this troublesome woman a chance to stay the hell out of his way. It was _really _beginning to piss him off. And at this rate, she literally had no choice but to succumb to what he had planned. She may have even liked it at the end of it all.

Not like she'd really remember why, however…and neither would he, what with the current rate of his drinking.

"Where are you taking me?"

He'd been locking and loading her police issued firearm (A Glock 9MM…not the best piece he could get his hands on considering the circumstances. But it would have to do…) when her voice floated over to him. She still sounded so resolved. Even through the astounding forgery of their feud, he supposed that was one thing that captivated him about her. Her ability to fake her confidence. Because she very well understood that he was in control…and he was going to be, up until the very end.

"Answer me." Her voice was more loud, more firm now. He simply ignored her irksome whining, snatched up her keys, and headed to her car. Tossed his belongings in her trunk. Checked the car for wiring, and dug the GPS out from the dash. He tossed it out into the grass...drove his heel into it. Anything that could be used to track Kirihara was out of the question.

He then swerved the luxury car (with notable difficulty, due to his intoxication…) into the driveway, and returned so that he could escort the woman outside. One hand cradled her armpit and jerked her up to a very abrupt stand. Wordlessly, BK201 dragged her outside.

ooo

Aftershave. The accumulatively attractive smell floated over from what she assumed was a nearby bathroom. And when he returned, she had a very, _very _difficult time averting her eyes.

BK201 cleaned up quite well. He'd downed himself in all black. Some sleeveless, bulletproof garb lined his torso. Black pants, gun belt, gloves, and a heavy duty military issued boots made up the rest of the shindig. That mask…it was strapped to his hip. But it was in horrid condition; splintered and dirtied from god knows what. The man was clean shaven now. Misaki could hardly understand the purpose of the clean-up; the dirtier he looked, the more difficult it was going to be for any of his adversaries to recognize him.

Moments later she found herself shoved into the driver's seat of her own car. Her hands were cuffed neatly to either side of the steering wheel. He unbound her, tucked her into her seat-belt, and held a gun to her head while he shifted over into the passengers side. Naturally, he took a swig from the conveniently placed flask at his side. She narrowed her eyes in disgust.

"So this is your plan," Kirihara drawled. "You're going to lock me to the steering wheel and have me drive. If I try anything stupid, you're going to blow my brains out. Care to tell me your motive?"

"Drive." He growled, tapping the Glock against her temple.

She narrowed her eyes icily. "Where?"

"Out of Tokyo."

"You aren't going to fall asleep, are you?"

"That'll be the least of your worries." He murmured coolly. She'd just better hope he didn't piss all over the place. Gloved fingers managed the dial of the radio. A rather mellow tune pumped through, and Misaki Kirihara veered her car out of the driveway.

_Faces, shadows, blur together  
>We said we'd make it forever,<br>And if I die before I sleep,  
>Then carry me, carry me,<br>To a mountain steep…_


	6. Author's Note :I

.Note.

Mhm…all of these fabulous updates on the site are making me nervous. I have followers now. Forty of you guys.

Anyway, this story has been floating around for quite a while. My updates have been sporadic and scarce. As a writer, that's just my pattern-I never post anything on a set schedule. Consistency eludes me. :]

What I really want to say is that I won't be continuing this story. Perhaps I will rewrite it. Everything is pretty iffy. Essentially, I have ' d' mapped out in my head….I've just gone back and analyzed things that I don't like. Things that I can't get around unless I rewrite the entire thing. The brave thing to do would be to continue it, but…I don't really don't have the motivation.

If this story didn't have so many followers I probably would not have written this…but as a courtesy, I must let everyone know. So thank you guys for sticking around and reading my short ass story. Thanks for the reviews, support, and healthy criticism. You guys are lovely. Now, if everyone just reviewed everyone's stories more often I think we can make this fandom a better place. :I

Deuces Silly Gooses.

And no flames. Please. Oh and yeah, I'm probably gonna write something else. So look out for it.


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